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墨書 Inktalez
The fat man knew about Hydrochloric Acid.
He had once read a horror novel.
In a sealed room, the murderer intended to use concentrated Hydrochloric Acid to dissolve the victim's body but accidentally fell into the Hydrochloric Acid pool himself.
In less than ten minutes, the murderer was dissolved in the strong acid, leaving only a corpse lying in the locked room, creating a bizarre locked-room murder case.
Only the most inert gold would remain unaffected by such concentrated Hydrochloric Acid.
"So, if the Steel Cable above us breaks, we will fall into... that strong acid?" the fat man confirmed, his voice trembling slightly with fear.
"Yes. Not only you, but even this iron cage can't withstand the corrosion of Hydrochloric Acid. We would definitely be reduced to nothing," the girl's voice was strong but carried a hint of tremor.
"Thank you," the fat man murmured, staring intently at the liquid below, which was as calm as a mirror, unable to tear his gaze away.
"Tch," the girl huffed helplessly, her tone tinged with impatience. "I have no choice; it's for my own sake too. Haven't you noticed? Our cages are tied together with a single rope. If you move around too much, it won't be good for me either. Just now, when my cage started swaying, I figured you must have woken up."
The two cages were connected by a single rope?
Curious, the fat man looked up: the Steel Cable above was about three meters long, looping over a Pulley and extending toward her side. It must lead to the girl's cage.
Wasn't this like a balance scale? He and the girl were like counterweights on that scale.
If one cage becomes lighter, then the other side will slowly sink, eventually plunging into strong acid? The fat man shivered, feeling a chill run down his spine.
“Hey, you pervert, stop staring over here!” the girl on the other side shouted. “Here I am, a stunning beauty, and I’m stripped down like a plucked chicken. The person who took off my clothes must be a high monk or something, to have resisted committing a crime against me.”
“I’m severely nearsighted; I can’t see you,” the fat man hurriedly explained, feeling a twinge of regret. “But since we’re tied to the same rope, it means our weights are the same. What kind of beauty are you?”
“Please, there’s a Counterweight under our cages. I can’t see mine, but I can guess that my Counterweight is definitely heavier than yours by at least dozens of pounds,” the girl retorted irritably.
The fat man lost his temper; he was not one to argue with women.
“Why don’t you tell me how we ended up here?” The beauty seemed to have finally found someone to talk to and immediately launched into conversation. “Is this some kind of kidnapping for ransom?”
“No way.” The fat man shook his head and thought calmly. “No matter what, I could never be kidnapped for ransom. To be kidnapped, there has to be a wealthy father behind it. My family has been poor farmers for generations; I’m just a homebody who occasionally does odd jobs and hasn’t won five million recently. Though it’s not something to boast about, I have absolutely no value for kidnapping.”
“Uh,” the girl seemed taken aback by his honesty and was momentarily speechless. “My dad is a chairman, but I was brought in by my stepmother. That cold-blooded beast wouldn’t care about my life at all. If I were killed, he might even be willing to pay more money.”
“That’s one thing we have in common,” the fat man sighed. “But it doesn’t help us at all. How did you end up here?” He leaned back against the cage wall.
“I’m not really sure.” The girl shrugged her shoulders without any guard. “I got drunk one night and was swaying home, always bumping into walls. When I couldn’t walk anymore, I lay down by the roadside thinking I’d rest a bit before continuing. Next thing I knew, I was here—completely naked.”
"That's another common point," the chubby guy tentatively asked. "You're a girl, out drinking at night, with no one to look after you or take you home. You have no trustworthy friends around, and your family probably doesn't care about you either, right?"
"So what?" It seemed he had touched a nerve; her voice grew a bit annoyed. "I'm already an adult."
"My experience is different from yours, but the situation is similar," he continued. "I was knocked out in a secluded public phone booth. Looking back, my decision to use that phone booth was completely random. I had just bought a newspaper nearby and happened to have some spare change, so I thought I'd make a call home. The kidnapper couldn't have predicted that I would enter that booth—that's one reason.
The device they used to knock me out needed some time to set up—that's another reason. So they weren't specifically targeting me; their goal was just any passerby who happened to use that phone booth."
The chubby guy carefully recalled the process of losing consciousness.
"Do you find this analysis interesting?" the girl asked impatiently.
"Don't you understand?" He suddenly felt a chill. "In an age where mobile phones are ubiquitous, those who still use phone booths are often marginalized individuals without complex social ties. If they disappeared, no one would care. And you're exactly one of those people—a rebellious girl whose parents don't care about her, who might just run away one day with some pretty boy."
"Shut up about running away with some pretty boy!" The girl was displeased.
"Please," his face turned pale. "Our only common point is that if we went missing, no one would be sad, no one would report it, and no one would investigate. It's precisely because of this that we were kidnapped—because the kidnapper needs us to disappear, needs us never to return to society!"
Suddenly, from the lower left corner of the chubby guy's cage, in the corridor between the two cages, there came the sound of crisp applause.
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